


Dennis Reynolds: Homecoming

by sunrose



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:33:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12364851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunrose/pseuds/sunrose
Summary: Mac blinks, heart racing. “Dennis is coming back.”





	Dennis Reynolds: Homecoming

Elbows perched on the bar’s dirty countertop, Mac squints at the text gleaming from his phone. He blinks twice and reads the words again, just to be sure.

“Goddamnit, Charlie,” Dee curses from behind the bar, one hand grasping a cloudy drink that looks as if it’d been infected with tapeworm. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop putting spaghetti in the soda gun lines?”

Mac glances up from his phone to see Charlie standing beside her, one hand on his hip. “Oh, look who’s too good for a little pasta in their mixed drink,“ he mocks.

“I think it’s a great idea, Charlie,” Frank voices from where he sits to Mac’s right. “Broads dig spaghetti.”

Dee narrows her eyes, mouth parted in disbelief. “Not in their alcohol, they don’t!”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t try a spaghetti and tonic?” Charlie presses. “Spaghetti cranberry? A _Mojhetti?_ Really, Dee?”

“Uh, yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Those sound disgusting.”

Charlie purses his lips, head shaking in solemn disappointment. “You have no goddamn taste.”

Dee rolls her eyes as she pulls out a strand of spaghetti from the gun head and flicks it onto the countertop. Then she pauses, cocking her head in contemplation. “Well, I guess it would be pretty funny if you put some in a Highball and called it a Meatball instead,” she chuckles with a smirk.

Charlie and Frank both frown, squinting in confusion.

“That sounds like shit, Deandra.”

“Yeah that doesn’t even make sense.”

“Oh come on,” Dee whines, “How is my idea any worse than yours?”

Charlie sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Fine. Mac—what do you think?”

Mac blinks, heart racing. His eyes witnessed the exchange take place, but his mind’s been elsewhere. “Dennis is coming back.”

A familiar look of pity settles over Charlie’s face. “Hey, buddy…”

“Yeah,” Dee says with a sad cringe, “gross drinks are the last thing that’ll make Dennis come back, I can guarantee you that.”

“He’s a dick,” Frank adds, now chewing the piece spaghetti Dee left on the countertop.

Mac shakes his head. “No, I mean he’s coming back. He just texted me. Something happened with Mandy. He’s taking a flight that gets him back into Philly tomorrow night.”

The group pauses, lips parted and eyes wide.

Charlie blinks. “Like, for good?”

“Yeah,” Mac breathes. “Sounds like it.”

“That bitch, he didn’t even tell me he was coming back. I’m his sister!” Dee exclaims.

Frank shrugs. “He’s a dick.”

“Like, does he _have_ to come back?” Charlie says. “Because I was kind of enjoying it without him around all the time—”

“Yeah it was pretty nice—”

“Less rapey—”

“Okay, okay, shut up!” Mac yells through the commotion. The gang goes silent. Mac exhales.

“Some things have been better without Dennis around, I’ll admit,” he begins, “but a lot has been worse. Like, we haven’t been able to get a scheme off the ground in weeks. The new arbitration system clearly isn’t working because everything keeps getting caught up in process. Our Yelp reviews are terrible because no one’s yelling at us to do our jobs, so customers aren’t showing up to the bar. I mean, look around—there’s literally no one in here but us!”

The gang glances across the room, which is completely empty.

“We’ve deluded ourselves into believing our lives are better without Dennis controlling us,” Mac continues, now impassioned, “but in reality we’ve been meandering around aimlessly without him, searching for any semblance of meaning in our lives because the only directive we’ve known left us. I get it, I get it, I know you’re tempted to shrug off Dennis when he returns, or scream at him for hurting us like he did, just leaving so suddenly after treating you like shit even though you put your entire heart and soul into your relationship with him. And now you go out and force yourself to make fleeting connections with others, and even though it feels good and can be pretty awesome at times, it’s not the same because it’s not Dennis. Things aren’t better, don’t you see? Dennis _belongs_ with us. And I can tell this time apart has been difficult for him too. So maybe we should give him a second chance. At the very least we should greet him at the airport after not seeing him for so long.”

Dee narrows her eyes. “Mac, Dennis has been gone for three weeks.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s felt like forever. As a gay man I’m more in tune with my emotions so I feel things much more strongly. Especially about Dennis, since I know him so well.”

“Oh god, this is awkward,” Dee breathes, focusing her attention back to the spaghetti-clogged soda gun.

Mac furrows his brows. “What?”

No one speaks for a few moments, eyes flicking around the room but never on Mac.

“What?” he asks again, this time louder.

“Dude, well,” Charlie starts. He reaches behind his neck to give it an awkward scratch. “This just kind of sounds like it’s about you being in love with Dennis.”

Mac’s eyes go wide, face suddenly a deep shade of red. He feels his entire body heat with embarrassment. “No no no, that’s not it. As a gay man—”

“As a gay man you want to put your junk in Dennis,” Frank interrupts. “We get it, nothin’ to be ashamed of. Except I can’t figure out for the life of me why you chose him.”

Dee sighs, placing the gun on the counter. “Yeah Mac, isn’t there another guy you can be obsessively in love with aside from my dickhead brother? It’d be so nice if we could just tell him to fuck off and never come back.”

“I’m—you guys take that back! I’m not in love with Dennis! I don’t want to put my junk anywhere near him!”

“Didn’t you tell me you were havin’ erotic nightmares about him shimmying and kissing all over you and shit? That sounds a lot like you wanting to put your junk inside him,” Frank says.

“And we all witnessed you giving him that gift on Valentine’s,” Dee adds.

Charlie nods. “Yeah that was the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Mac swallows, chest heaving. He can’t handle this right now. He hasn’t even been able to come to terms with his feelings for Dennis himself, there’s no way he’s talking about this with them—

“Eh, it started way before that though,” Frank says to Dee, “Mac was always watchin’ him have sex—”

“Yeah and he _always_ talked about Dennis’ dick,” Charlie adds.

Dee snorts. “I knew it the minute Mac agreed to live with Dennis. No one would succumb to that unless they were in love.”

Mac raises his hands. “Uh, I’m right here!”

Charlie waves, shushing him. “We’re talking.”

“Oh my god,” Mac sighs. He slides off the barstool and heads for the door.

“Hey, where you goin’?” Frank calls.

Mac turns, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know, home to fix up the apartment before Dennis comes back? His flight gets in at eleven tomorrow night. I’ll be there to pick him up. If you want to be there too, then you can show up at the airport then.”

 

* * *

 

No one else shows up at the airport.

Instead, Mac waits alone on a bench in Arrivals. The terminal is fairly empty given the time; only a few straggling travelers head toward the exit with rolling suitcases in tow. He glances at the status screen across from him and finds Dennis’ flight again.

_Landed._

Knee bouncing, Mac checks his phone for what feels like the thousandth time that night. It’s 11:20 and he still hasn’t heard anything from Dennis. He wonders if his friend got into a jam somewhere, or if he had an accident on the plane, or if he’s sick in the bathroom—the possibilities were endless. With a shaky exhale Mac leans back against the bench, rubbing one hand over his face.

After he drops his hand to his lap, Mac watches with interest as more travelers begin to trickle from the gate doors. A middle aged woman carrying a toy poodle, a businessman fervently texting, a family of four with oversized carry-ons, a yawning college student—

Dennis.

Air empties Mac’s lungs. He exhales, heart pounding, then stands upright. The movement catches Dennis’ attention and he looks Mac’s way, noticing the other man’s presence. Their eyes meet.

Dennis’ expression softens—a rare sight, and it makes Mac’s stomach flip inside out—but after several seconds he diverts his glance away. He walks across the room, avoiding the other travelers around him, and returns his gaze to Mac as he slows to a stop.

Flooding emotions root Mac in position; he’s frozen, overwhelmed by Dennis’ form a foot before him. He looks terrible, Mac will admit: his button down is wrinkled and bent off kilter by the weight of his shoulder bag, his curls have begun to unwind from their quaff, and dark circles purple beneath his eyes. Part of him wants to act standoffish and rude as payback, but a stronger part of him wants completely the opposite. He’s tempted to reach across the space between them and press their lips together, pulling his tired body into his arms. The thought reminds him of yesterday’s discussion and his body immediately heats with embarrassment.

Mac’s silence is awkward now and Dennis is staring at him like he’s expecting something—hoping something, almost—so he blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “How was the flight, man?”

Dennis blinks. He shifts, adjusting the bag on his shoulder, and clears his throat. “It was fine.”

“I didn’t hear from you so I wasn’t sure if something happened—”

“Oh, well it took forever to get off the plane, and I had no service, so.”

“Ah.”

The awkward silence continues.

“Here, I’ll take that,” Mac offers, reaching out to touch the strap of Dennis’ bag.

“Wh—no I can—”

“Dude, I’m like much stronger than you, it’ll be easier for me to carry it to the car.”

Dennis purses his lips. “Alright.”

Mac slips the bag from Dennis’ shoulder, knuckles brushing against the warmth of his shirt. He hoists the heavy item onto his back and raises his brows. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Dennis breathes in response, eyes not quite meeting his friend’s.

The walk to the parking lot is just as tense: long silences, furtive glances, thick, unspoken tension that makes Mac’s skin feel like it’s on fire. When they reach the car and Mac digs into his pocket to retrieve the keys, Dennis pauses to inspect the unfamiliar BMW sedan. Once it’s unlocked, Mac places the bag in the trunk and then enters the driver’s seat. Dennis follows suit on the passenger side.

“Is this a rental or something?” he asks as he buckles his seatbelt.

Mac turns the keys in the ignition, revving the engine to life. “Nah, this is Dee’s new car. Frank bought it, of course. We got it after we—” He catches himself before he goes further and swallows.

“After what?”

Mac drops his hands from the steering wheel, turning to face Dennis as he exhales. “You see, there was an accident with your car.”

His friend’s brows rise slightly, face controlled. “What kind of accident?”

“Well, we sort of…blew it up…a little bit?”

“You _blew_ it up?”

“Well like, emotions were high after you left and—”

Dennis sighs, eyes closed, and runs a hand through his hair. “You know what, it’s fine. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“I’ll make Frank buy me another one,” Dennis murmurs as he turns away. His somber reserve is disquieting; Mac would have expected a modest display of anger at the very least. He’s half expecting his friend to turn around and start screaming, but he doesn’t. Instead he leans against the door and stares out the window with a forlorn expression.

“Yeah,” Mac says softly before putting the car in drive. “Good idea dude.”

Ten minutes of silence pass as they travel back into the city. Mac glances over at Dennis several times to check on him, and each time he’s unmoved, staring silently through the window. He knows Dennis has trouble displaying emotion at times, but this feels different.

Mac clears his throat. “Hey Dennis?” he asks.

His friend shifts in his seat but doesn’t look at Mac. “Hm,” he hums in response.

“I just…if you want to talk about what happened—”

“I don’t.”

Mac swallows, frowning as he flicks his eyes from Dennis’ profile back to the cars ahead. “Okay.”

Quiet blankets over the car once more. It’s dark save for the occasional headlight whizzing past, but the nearing city lights illuminate their features.

“I’m sorry,” Mac starts quietly, eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel. “For whatever happened, I mean. But I’m glad you’re here.”

They exit the highway in silence. When they approach the first intersection, the light turns red and Mac decelerates to a stop. The glow above sets the car in a warm haze.

Suddenly, Mac feels something warm brush against his right hand where it rests in the center console. He glances down, heart racing, and sees Dennis’ thumb caressing his skin. Mac’s lungs feel like steel as he slowly intertwines their fingers until their hands are clasped tight. He glances up—Dennis is looking at him now, gaze glassy.

Mac’s lips part in surprise, eyes flickering as they stare into Dennis’ own. His entire body pulses with warmth and in that moment he knows the gang’s accusations weren’t unfounded. He knows they’re right.

Dennis flicks his eyes away, looking ahead, and swallows. “Mac?” he asks.

Mac’s heart speeds in his chest. “Yeah Dennis?”

“The light is green.”

Spell broken, Mac jolts his attention back to the road. The traffic light shines bright green into his eyes and the car behind them beeps impatiently.

“Oh,” Mac says sheepishly as he switches his foot to the gas pedal and starts driving. “Sorry.”

Dennis returns his gaze to the window, but he keeps his hand intertwined with Mac’s until they arrive home.

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally a tumblr prompt response, but i may continue it if there's enough interest. thoughts and comments are always appreciated!


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